Compiled from email comments, and FB posts, so it's not written in any particular order:

These are some of the books my kids have enjoyed in the past year . Are your girls the ones that only like those realistic fiction problem novels? If so, they might not like much from our lists - maybe John Green, Ally Condie, Cassandra Clare. Also, once my kids get to be 12ish, I don't care if there's sex or violence in a book, as long as the book is well written, the sex/violence isn't gratuitous, and my kids come to me if there's something they don't understand. There's some teen sex in Maggie Stiefvater's Shiver/Linger/Forever series, and maybe one of the Cassandra Clare books. The Diviners is paranormal historical fiction and it's listed as 10th grade - maybe it's creepy? Maddie read Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children and it freaked her out for quite awhile - I don't know if she would recommend it or not.

Also, the post-apocalyptic "The Road" by Cormac McCarthy. Now that one depressed me.

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Handmaid's Tale

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"One Second After" is a great dystopian/PA novel. While the subject can be - well, what it is - depressing and sometimes even scary - the novel is fine for the YA crowd.

Ender's Game, 1984.

An absolutely fantastic new fantasy series is Seraphina by Rachel Hartman. Great themes, smart heroine (loves music and even some philosophy), dragons, self-acceptance, sweet, slow developing romance with a guy who deserves it. Fantastic world building.

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Dystopian books that I've enjoyed were The Giver and The Declaration (although I decided that I wouldn't read sequels to The Declaration).

There's a series called "Among the Hidden" by Margaret Haddix that fits that genre. There are around 9 books in the series. The story arc is sound but the plot and writing varies throughout the series. Most kids wouldn't mind, but those with higher expectations will notice.

The "Witch & Wizard" series by James Patterson is absolute rubbish.

I have to agree with many of the suggestions on the list. I think you're right about Hunger Games. There were many small things that bugged me with the story, but I thought that the characterization of the key players was done well. They weren't perfect, they didn't always make the right choice and they were able to learn from it. Living with someone with PTSD, I felt so much for them at the end when they tried to pick up the prices of their lives.

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I really like the lost books by Ted Dekker.

"Herland" by Charlotte Perkins Gilman.

"Looking Backward: 2000-1887" by Bellamy. William Morris (yes, THAT William Morris) wrote "News from Nowhere". And at the start of it all is, of course, Plato's "Republic". And there's the book that gave the genre its name: "Utopia" by Thomas More.

(and don't forget "Brave New World" - a MUST) Hope this helps in some way!

I read "A Handmaid's Tale" when I was very young and absolutely loved it. When I read it last year I couldn't figure out why I even liked the book. I don't want this to happen to her.

I second Among the Hidden series, The Giver. We also liked Matched (Aly Condie), City of Ember, and I haven't read, but these got good reviews: The Uglies, Divergent, Delerium, The Darkest Minds, Legend (Marie Lu). Not sure why, but The Fault in our Stars came in my search. Not dystopia/utopia-- but was an EXCELLENT book (warning, teen sex- but not explicit).

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Find this blog called "Shut up, I'm reading" and check out all of her recommendations. Her mom is Shari Sturgill Bergquist and J has never, ever steered us wrong with her recommendations. It's really great to have access to YA fiction that has been read and reviewed by an actual intelligent YA. I send all my friends to her blog and it's nice to NOT have to pre-read all of my girl's fiction first. Fortunately, neither one of them was into Twilight after reading a chapter or two, even though I still had to read the thing first.

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Shez, it's meant for a younger audience, but "The Mysterious Benedict Society" series is FABULOUS as well - right up your alley, and possibly hers, too. *I* loved them, and I'm an adult..

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James Kennedy's The Order of Odd-Fish.

game of thrones. I can' t read it.

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A Wrinkle in Time

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Chaos Walking series. Starts with The Knife of Never Letting Go. I just finished reading the series on Austen's recommendation and could not put it down. Excellent! The Pure Trilogy. First one is Pure. Second is Fuse. Third one had not been released yet. There is a good anthology of young adult p-a and dys called Aftermath, I think. I have it on my kindle. Very good short stories. Game of Thrones is VERY adult. I would not recommend it.

. I read the Crystal Singer when I was her age.

. Did you find John Marsden's 'Tomorrow' Series?

He's an Australian who's opened his own school, and although his books confront the reality of a country at war, he deals with issues of teen angst and comradeship . . . not saccharine happy endings, but shows how adversity can affect one, and ways to find your way through. And he has a female protagonist!

I love them, and re-read them occasionally.

I just read a book for pleasure, the first one in ... 40 years. RLS's Treasure Island. Found it free from Google Play (for Android). It was such an enjoyable experience that I'm going to go after Gullivers Travels and then Robinson Carouso. Reading for pleasure (instead of the thousands of instruction manuals I've accumulated) ... what a concept!.

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The Postman, although maybe not old enough. Canticle for Leibovitz, in a few years.

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Some of these might be too old for Shira, but Maddie & I have liked Adoration of Jenna Fox series, anything by Maggie Stiefvater, Matched series by Ally Condie, Divergent series, Demon's Lexicon series, both of Cassandra Clare's series (she calls these "urban fantasy"), Seraphina, Kristin Cashore's Graceling series (fantasy genre).

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The Giver, Lois Lowry

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Fahrenheit 451 is a must! Has she read Watership Down? It is a lovely fantasy, but she will recognize the dystopian society in the book.

30 March at 22:12 · Like · 1

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I wonder if books of dystopian movies are available. If there are books of Waterworld, Mad Maxx, The Postman, Damnation Alley, Aeon Flux, ... and what's that one that was remade within the last decade with Will Smith? If she's into dystopian movies, I recommend those. Oh, and Gene Roddenberry's Genesis 2, and Planet Earth, from the 1970s! ..... Ooh - I just remembered the City of Ember series! That's more age appropriate, too! Not so dark as 1984, or even as The Hunger Games, and the main characters are teens.

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The City of Ember series is great - forgot about that one and I can't imagine why - a REALLY interesting concept. I still stand by "The Mysterious Benedict Society" - also a good read!

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Also Cinder (Lunar Chronicles)

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Just read Wonder. Really great book.

Wonder and The One and Only Ivan. (It will appeal to her love of animals.)

I second "The One and Only Ivan" - .it's fabulous - a simple read, but brilliant, and a lovely, lovely story.

I have not read previous comments so there may be some repeats here: Gregor the Overlander series, House of the Scorpion (long), Of Mice and Men, The Giver, any Rick Riordan books, Unwind (creepy), Elsewhere, When You Reach Me, Wonderstruck, Heart of a Samurai, To Kill a Mockingbird,,, will let you know if she thinks of any others.

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bird, bleachers, born to run, a brief history of montmaray, calico joe, dead end in norvelt, divergent, the fingertips of duncan dorfman, flawless, the 4 agreements, songs of innocence and experience, theories of international politics and zombies,

_

CLASSIC: Alas Babylon, Z for Zachariah, On the Beach, Earth Abides, I am Legend, The Postman, A Canticle for Leibowitz, Lucifer’s Hammer, The Last Man (Mary Shelley), 1984, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, The Day of the Triffids, Pebble in the Sky, Gather Darkness, Childhood’s End, The Kraken Wakes.

CONTEMPORARY: The Stand, The Passage, Divergent, Wither, Pure, Age of Miracles, The Forest of Hands and Teeth, Whole Wide World, Jennifer Government, Oryx and Crake, Robopocalypse.

Katie is reading the latest of the Skullduggery Pleasant books. I am repulsed by the covers. But she loves them.

Dominic is reading Lost in the Barrens. He likes Farley Mowat stories: Owls In The Family, The Dog Who Wouldn't Be, The Boat That Wouldn't Float, People of the Deer.

Here's a list I compiled a while back, via email and Facebook.I hope it makes sense. Some of it is from Sherene, and other friends.It's a pretty big list, with great suggestions!These are some of the books my kids have enjoyed in the past year . Are your girls the ones that only like those realistic fiction problem novels? If so, they might not like much from our lists - maybe John Green, Ally Condie, Cassandra Clare. Also, once my kids get to be 12ish, I don't care if there's sex or violence in a book, as long as the book is well written, the sex/violence isn't gratuitous, and my kids come to me if there's something they don't understand. There's some teen sex in Maggie Stiefvater's Shiver/Linger/Forever series, and maybe one of the Cassandra Clare books. The Diviners is paranormal historical fiction and it's listed as 10th grade - maybe it's creepy? Maddie read Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children and it freaked her out for quite awhile - I don't know if she would recommend it or not.Matched/Crossed/Reached series by Ally CondieDemon's Lexicon by Sarah Rees Brennan (1st in trilogy)anything by John GreenDivergent by Veronica Roth (1st in trilogy)Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra ClareInfernal Devices series by C. ClareScorpio Races by Maggie StiefvaterRaven Boys by Maggie StiefvaterShiver/Linger/Forever by M. StiefvaterThe Adoration of Jenna Fox series by Mary PearsonThe Diviners by Libba BrayAnne of Green Gables serieswe're always rereading Roald Dahl, Alice in Wonderland, Wizard of Oz booksThe Girl Who Could Fly by Victoria ForesterHold Me Closer, NecromancerRomeo & JulietEnder's Game seriesLes Miserables (Maddie is almost done with this book, and she plans on killing one of her characters by dropping this book on them! It's taken Maddie a year.)Seraphina by Rachel HartmanThe Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel Series by Michael ScottTeam Human (Twilight parody) by Sarah Rees Brennan and Justine LarbalestierScott Westerfeld booksKai and Maddie liked the Artemis Fowl series by Eoin Colfer, but I couldn't ever get into itMy kids are chuckling their way through Robert Asprin's Myth series.http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=robert+asprinwe're all listening to the audiobooks as they are so well read. They are short books but the word play is excellent.Orson Scott Card's Mither Mage trilogy (only two are out right now) is excellenthttp://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_2?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=mither+mage&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Amither+mageBook 2 develops the theme of teen angst about boy/girl relationships. I'm very impressed at how Card deals with the issues. Like Terry, I don't screen for sex or violence anymore.Kevin Hearne's Iron Druid series is our current all-time-favorite serieshttp://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=iron+druid&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Airon+druidIt's great in print but spectacular in audio format. The narrator makes these books come alive. I highly recommend that these books be listened to, not read.Peter Brett's Demon Cyclehttp://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_2?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=brett&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Abrett

Brent Week's Lightbringer serieshttp://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=Brent+weeksBen adored the Galactic Mage series by John Daulton (Shira and I didn't care for it)http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=galactic+mage&rh=n%3A133140011%2Ck%3Agalactic+mageThe Gone series by Michael Granthttp://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=Michael+Grant&rh=n%3A133140011%2Ck%3AMichael+GrantMy kids say that anything by Michael Grant is outstanding. The new one, BZRK is apparently really good.Ben loves the new Erin Hunter series Survivorshttp://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_2_8?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=survivors+erin+hunter&sprefix=survivor%2Cdigital-text%2C140&rh=n%3A133140011%2Ck%3Asurvivors+erin+hunterThis is a different 4-writer team than the one that wrote Warriors. The writing is much better.Shira is a huge fan of Sarah Prineashttp://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_10?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=sarah+prineas&sprefix=sarah+prin%2Cdigital-text%2C140&rh=n%3A133140011%2Ck%3Asarah+prineasShe's currently reading the Winterling series and is loving it.The Bakkian Chronicles by Jeffrey Poolehttp://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_11?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=bakkain+chronicles&sprefix=bakkain+chr%2Cdigital-text%2C140&rh=n%3A133140011%2Ck%3Abakkain+chroniclesClipped from: https://www.facebook.com/sherene.silverberg?ref=tn_tnmnPhoebe read Divergeant from Lydia's list and is completely hooked on it. She made Maggie read it, Maggie also loved it. My kids loved "Ender's Game" by Orson Scott Card. I loved "Fahrenheit 451" by Ray Bradbury. My husband recommends "Dune" by Frank Herbert..Also, the post-apocalyptic "The Road" by Cormac McCarthy. Now that one depressed me.. Handmaid's Tale. "One Second After" is a great dystopian/PA novel. While the subject can be - well, what it is - depressing and sometimes even scary - the novel is fine for the YA crowd.Ender's Game, 1984. An absolutely fantastic new fantasy series is Seraphina by Rachel Hartman. Great themes, smart heroine (loves music and even some philosophy), dragons, self-acceptance, sweet, slow developing romance with a guy who deserves it. Fantastic world building.. Dystopian books that I've enjoyed were The Giver and The Declaration (although I decided that I wouldn't read sequels to The Declaration). There's a series called "Among the Hidden" by Margaret Haddix that fits that genre. There are around 9 books in the series. The story arc is sound but the plot and writing varies throughout the series. Most kids wouldn't mind, but those with higher expectations will notice. The "Witch & Wizard" series by James Patterson is absolute rubbish. I have to agree with many of the suggestions on the list. I think you're right about Hunger Games. There were many small things that bugged me with the story, but I thought that the characterization of the key players was done well. They weren't perfect, they didn't always make the right choice and they were able to learn from it. Living with someone with PTSD, I felt so much for them at the end when they tried to pick up the prices of their lives... I really like the lost books by Ted Dekker. "Herland" by Charlotte Perkins Gilman. "Looking Backward: 2000-1887" by Bellamy. William Morris (yes, THAT William Morris) wrote "News from Nowhere". And at the start of it all is, of course, Plato's "Republic". And there's the book that gave the genre its name: "Utopia" by Thomas More. (and don't forget "Brave New World" - a MUST) Hope this helps in some way! I read "A Handmaid's Tale" when I was very young and absolutely loved it. When I read it last year I couldn't figure out why I even liked the book. I don't want this to happen to her. http://homeschoolhungergames.blogspot.com/p/apocalyptic-literaturespring-2013.html Here's Lydia's list of books.Homeschool Hunger Games: Syllabushomeschoolhungergames.blogspot.com. I second Among the Hidden series, The Giver. We also liked Matched (Aly Condie), City of Ember, and I haven't read, but these got good reviews: The Uglies, Divergent, Delerium, The Darkest Minds, Legend (Marie Lu). Not sure why, but The Fault in our Stars came in my search. Not dystopia/utopia-- but was an EXCELLENT book (warning, teen sex- but not explicit)...Find this blog called "Shut up, I'm reading" and check out all of her recommendations. Her mom is Shari Sturgill Bergquist and J has never, ever steered us wrong with her recommendations. It's really great to have access to YA fiction that has been read and reviewed by an actual intelligent YA. I send all my friends to her blog and it's nice to NOT have to pre-read all of my girl's fiction first. Fortunately, neither one of them was into Twilight after reading a chapter or two, even though I still had to read the thing first..Shez, it's meant for a younger audience, but "The Mysterious Benedict Society" series is FABULOUS as well - right up your alley, and possibly hers, too. *I* loved them, and I'm an adult... James Kennedy's The Order of Odd-Fish.game of thrones. I can' t read it.. A Wrinkle in Time. Chaos Walking series. Starts with The Knife of Never Letting Go. I just finished reading the series on Austen's recommendation and could not put it down. Excellent! The Pure Trilogy. First one is Pure. Second is Fuse. Third one had not been released yet. There is a good anthology of young adult p-a and dys called Aftermath, I think. I have it on my kindle. Very good short stories. Game of Thrones is VERY adult. I would not recommend it.. I read the Crystal Singer when I was her age.. Did you find John Marsden's 'Tomorrow' Series?He's an Australian who's opened his own school, and although his books confront the reality of a country at war, he deals with issues of teen angst and comradeship . . . not saccharine happy endings, but shows how adversity can affect one, and ways to find your way through. And he has a female protagonist!I love them, and re-read them occasionally. I just read a book for pleasure, the first one in ... 40 years. RLS's Treasure Island. Found it free from Google Play (for Android). It was such an enjoyable experience that I'm going to go after Gullivers Travels and then Robinson Carouso. Reading for pleasure (instead of the thousands of instruction manuals I've accumulated) ... what a concept!.. The Postman, although maybe not old enough. Canticle for Leibovitz, in a few years.. Some of these might be too old for Shira, but Maddie & I have liked Adoration of Jenna Fox series, anything by Maggie Stiefvater, Matched series by Ally Condie, Divergent series, Demon's Lexicon series, both of Cassandra Clare's series (she calls these "urban fantasy"), Seraphina, Kristin Cashore's Graceling series (fantasy genre).. The Giver, Lois Lowry.Fahrenheit 451 is a must! Has she read Watership Down? It is a lovely fantasy, but she will recognize the dystopian society in the book.30 March at 22:12 · Like · 1.. I wonder if books of dystopian movies are available. If there are books of Waterworld, Mad Maxx, The Postman, Damnation Alley, Aeon Flux, ... and what's that one that was remade within the last decade with Will Smith? If she's into dystopian movies, I recommend those. Oh, and Gene Roddenberry's Genesis 2, and Planet Earth, from the 1970s! ..... Ooh - I just remembered the City of Ember series! That's more age appropriate, too! Not so dark as 1984, or even as The Hunger Games, and the main characters are teens..The City of Ember series is great - forgot about that one and I can't imagine why - a REALLY interesting concept. I still stand by "The Mysterious Benedict Society" - also a good read!.Also Cinder (Lunar Chronicles).Just read Wonder. Really great book.

Wonder and The One and Only Ivan. (It will appeal to her love of animals.) I second "The One and Only Ivan" - .it's fabulous - a simple read, but brilliant, and a lovely, lovely story. I have not read previous comments so there may be some repeats here: Gregor the Overlander series, House of the Scorpion (long), Of Mice and Men, The Giver, any Rick Riordan books, Unwind (creepy), Elsewhere, When You Reach Me, Wonderstruck, Heart of a Samurai, To Kill a Mockingbird,,, will let you know if she thinks of any others...bird, bleachers, born to run, a brief history of montmaray, calico joe, dead end in norvelt, divergent, the fingertips of duncan dorfman, flawless, the 4 agreements, songs of innocence and experience, theories of international politics and zombies, _CLASSIC: Alas Babylon, Z for Zachariah, On the Beach, Earth Abides, I am Legend, The Postman, A Canticle for Leibowitz, Lucifer’s Hammer, The Last Man (Mary Shelley), 1984, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, The Day of the Triffids, Pebble in the Sky, Gather Darkness, Childhood’s End, The Kraken Wakes. CONTEMPORARY: The Stand, The Passage, Divergent, Wither, Pure, Age of Miracles, The Forest of Hands and Teeth, Whole Wide World, Jennifer Government, Oryx and Crake, Robopocalypse.Katie is reading the latest of the Skullduggery Pleasant books. I am repulsed by the covers. But she loves them.Dominic is reading Lost in the Barrens. He likes Farley Mowat stories: Owls In The Family, The Dog Who Wouldn't Be, The Boat That Wouldn't Float, People of the Deer.

She was my template for how to *live.* How to really drink up life, enjoy every second, and if you're not enjoying what you're doing, dammit, change it.

She was strong and brave and funny and fierce and she danced and drank and loved and played with passion and joy and life, and then she was dead at 29.

I adored her the way I'd never loved a friend: Hero worship and sisterhood and solidarity all in one. She died the year after I got married, in March of 1998.

She never got to see the last Seinfeld, the rise of the Internet, Harry Potter. She never had an iPhone. She never got to get married, or to have a baby.

And yet, every day, when I'm doubting myself, or feeling down, or I wonder what path to take, I ask myself what Julia would do. And the answer, usually, is "Go out and kick some ass!," though sometimes the answer is, "Oh, sweetie, don't be so hard on yourself."

She has children all over the country named after her. Dozens of friends, probably hundreds, stunned by her death. A sister who is raising three boys who will never meet their aunt. A brother who is, I'm sure, still surprised, as I am, some days, to wake up and find out she's not there.

And now, my father is dying. He's 81 years old. He, too, lived passionately, but in a much different way. He got to live eight centuries, and so he's had three wives, four or five live-in girlfriends, five children from his wives. He did have a son named after him, but once he abandoned the son, his name was changed. Besides, it doesn't count if you name the child after yourself. He still doesn't have an iPhone, and probably doesn't know who Harry Potter is. But I very seldom ask myself, "What would my dad say about this?"

And yet, after all that life, my father still wants more.

He was put into hospice care today. The doctor said they had to have "an end-of-life discussion."

My dad asked, "Will I get better?"

Well, no, he won't. Clearly.

February of 2012, he was given less than a year to live. Shorter than that if he went back to drinking. He's still drinking.

My mother says he hasn't been out of his chair in two weeks. The doctor said that his breathing will get harder and harder, and then one day soon, he'll just stop breathing. It's actually a very painless way to die.

But you know what? He doesn't want to die. He wants to buy a house.

Until today, he was telling everyone that he was going to get better.

That he was going to go buy a little house up the road.

He put a down payment on a place he's seen one time, that's worth about $40,000 and needs a ton of work.

He's hired a plumber to clean out a line to the street. He's got two dumpsters over there, and a guy to haul away debris and garbage. He got a lawn guy to go mow and clean up.

Meanwhile, there's no money left at home for my mother and him to eat or pay bills.

But he sent my mother to Tuesday Morning (a discount store) to go buy a ceiling fan for his new house. The fan is $150. But it's on sale from $350, so this is a good deal, and it's just the touch his new house needs. He can see all this, and dream about all this, and feel it in his bones: It's going to happen.

So my mother, who is 75 and decrepit and passes out regularly from uncontrolled diabetes, drove the 65 miles to to the store to go get the ceiling fan, spent their last $150 on it, and came back so he could sit with it in his lap.

He can dream about his little house, with his ceiling fans, and his chickens, and of growing tomatoes.

My father still likes to cook.

My father doesn't do anything by halves -- just like Julia. If he's going to cook, dammit, he's going all in. It's Julia Child's best recipe from Mastering the Art of French Cooking, cooked up in a new $150 stockpot, stirred with the right ladle, or it's no use even starting. There is no "throwing things together in a pot." That's not cooking. Cooking is an art, with a form and a beauty all it's own.

But he can't come to the kitchen anymore. He can't get out of his chair at all.

So Sunday, he wanted to make pea soup.

He got out his fancy cookbook -- I would assume it's Julia Child, but I don't know if she has a pea soup recipe -- and my mother brought him a knife and a cutting board in the living room, and he chopped the carrots, because he said she couldn't do them right.

Then he took a nap, and woke up and chopped onions, because he said he was the only one who could chop onions properly. Then a nap, then celery.

Then he made her measure and bring an entire gallon of water into the living room, because he didn't believe that she would put a whole gallon of water into the pot unless he saw it first.

Then he yelled from his chair to give him updates on how it looked while it was cooking while she stood in the kitchen and watched.

It is sad and sweet and horrifying and wonderful at the same time: He is trapped in this body that won't work, and all he wants to do is make dinner for himself, and he can't do it. So my mother, who has been his nemesis and companion and enemy and lover for almost fifty years, helped him do it. And I'm sure he was glad that he could make it and eat it, at the same time that he was bitter and angry that he couldn't make it without her help.

And tonight, he is in a hospital, being fed hospital food, and he will never cook again. My mother is making plans to give away his cookware.

But here's the thing: He had 81 years to chase his dreams. To find peace. To spend time with his grandchildren, and love a good woman, and find God if he wanted to, and grow pounds of tomatoes, and buy a piece of property to leave a legacy behind.

And he spent them fighting, and drinking, and working overtime. And playing pool. Lot of pool.

I used to shoot pool with Julia, and think of my father.

Now I shoot pool and think of Julia.

She died without any notice.

She never got to say goodbye, or to make peace (though I will swear until I die that she came to me in a dream to say goodbye, and I *never* have weird dreams and I don't believe in them.)

And yet, because of the way she lived, she is remembered with a grin. With a laugh. With "a Julia story," and boy, there are a lot of them to tell. Most involve mischief, laughter, some alcohol, and a lot of fun.

So, in 29 years, she left a legacy that most people work their whole lives to achieve.

And yet my father, in 81 years, leaves a tangled mess of mixed feeling, regret, sadness and, most of all, a feeling of opportunities wasted, potential squandered, missed chances and broken dreams.

Julia's left a feeling of gratitude for having been part of her life, for even a brief time. Of a life that had so much good squeezed into such an intense package that you felt she never wasted one minute being miserable.

That in the end, if Julia had lived to be 81, she certainly wouldn't be longing for more time to cook, wondering if this pot of pea soup would bring her closure, if one more year to raise chickens would bring happiness.

Instead, I think, she'd meet it as she met everything: Head-on, grin on her face, ready for adventure after a life well-lived.

And that, I think, is what I'm going to take as my inheritance from Julia, and from my dad: That in the end, it doesn't matter how you die, or how long you live, or what kind of intensity and passion you have. It's what you do with that passion. It's not about how much overtime you can work. It's how you make other people feel. It's how kind you are. How much you realize that *now* matters. And that connections are all we have.

Julia learned this early, and she got it right. And I will be forever grateful for her, though I'm still pissed off that she's gone.

But my dad never learned it. He's still dreaming of the little place in the country, with chickens, where he'll find happiness.

There was a Boy Scout meeting the other night, and half of the families said they were leaving at the end of the year. The Scoutmaster, some of the other parents -- a bunch of people are leaving. They don't know if the troop will make it.

Why are they leaving? Because on January 1, Boy Scouts will allow children who identify as gay to become Boy Scouts. Yep. Boys who are 11, who have never had sex, who have never even touched someone of the same sex -- who are, in the eyes of most churches, completely without sin -- they're scaring off these adults.

The adults seem very impressed with themselves. They're "taking a stand against immorality."

Yep, teaching little kids that God doesn't love them, and the Boy Scouts don't either -- that's the way to spread the love of Jesus. Way to go. You've lost another soul.

I've been angry about this for a long time. We were thinking of leaving Scouts if the decision had gone the other way, and I'm glad they decided not to discriminate against children anymore.

But here's what really sealed this whole thing for me.

One of my favorite families came to visit us recently, and they stayed for two weeks.

It seemed like that would be a long time -- two weeks with six extra people is a lot of food, for a start -- but we had a great time.

I became friends with Andy in Austin -- he was one of the first homeschooling dads I ever met, and no one in our group knew what to make of him. A stay-at-home DAD? Who homeschooled four kids? Why, we had to re-name Moms' Night Out after he joined the group!

But it was a simple story, to hear him tell about his family. One of the best families I know: Married couple, four kids, ages 8, 12, 14 and 15. Three boys and a little girl.

The parents met in high school, grew up, got married, but they couldn't have kids and decided they'd either go for in-vitro or adopt. They decided to look into adopting first. Maybe one kid, maybe two.

They fell in love with all four, instead. Andy said once they met those children, once they had conversations with them, it was all over. All four kids would be coming home with them. It became apparent that someone had to stay home with the kids, because they needed a lot of help, and Andy was in between contracts, so he became a stay-at-home dad, and he hasn't looked back.

He joined right in with camping, Mother's Night Out, now known as Parents' Night Out, history co-ops, curriculum fairs. I met his kids, and they were sweet, well-mannered, and hard workers. Turns out they had suffered from years of neglect and the worst forms of abuse imaginable. Go ahead, think of the worst thing you can do to a child. To a boy who's six, maybe seven years old. Who trusts you. Now double it. Yeah, that kind of abuse and neglect.

One day while they were visiting, my son Sawyer was complaining to one of Andy's kids that when my daughter was born, I was so wrapped up in having a baby that I didn't feed him for FIVE WHOLE HOURS.

The boy just looked at Sawyer and laughed. "When I lived with my bio mom, we would go three or four days without food. The only time we'd eat was when I could sneak out at night and steal from garbage cans and bring food back for everyone. Five hours is nothing!"

Andy said that the worst of it was always spring break. The kids had meals at school during the school year and summer. Spring break, though, meant a whole week without food in the house. There was physical abuse, other abuse. Nasty, bone-chilling stuff. And it left marks on the kids, of course. They'd been in foster care for two years, and they were about to be separated from each other and adopted out to different families. The older two would go to one home, the younger two to another.

But then Andy adopted them, and they have been a family ever since. And there have been therapists, and setbacks, and more therapy, and more setbacks, and more sacrifices than anyone should have to make. And yet here they are, four years later, with happy, healthy, wonderful kids. Kids who study, who are respectful, who are fun and cheerful and helpful. They cleaned the kitchen every night after dinner, adored my cooking and called me "Miss Meagan." How can you not love that?

These kids were on their way to all sort of problems as adults -- scary, real problems -- and Andy, by being home with them and by homeschooling them, and with lots of time and therapy and love, was able to get them on a different path.

As one of my friends said about them: "If anyone out there is doing God's work, it's them."

But you know what?

Some of the families here in my community, in my little town of Bellingham, some people who like to call themselves Christian, won't accept Andy, or his family.

Andy can't be a Boy Scout leader. And his son can't join join Scouts. Because Andy and his husband, Brendan, happen to be gay. One of their three sons is gay, too.

And these "Christians" have taken it on themselves to leave Boy Scouts rather than stay in a group that accepts everyone, just the way they are.

I am putting "Christian" in quotes, because I do not believe that anyone who follows Christ could be this callous, this cruel, and this un-Christ-like. And yet they quote scripture to back up their bigotry and their pettyness.

They claim to follow in the footsteps of Christ. Christ, the same man who dined with thieves, was friends with prostitutes and said that there only two commandments that matter: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself. There is none other commandment greater than these."

Yep. Their version of loving their God, of showing their Christ-like devotion to their neighbors, is leaving the Boy Scout troop rather than allowing their children to be in an "immoral" place.

They had a meeting about it the other night, where the Scoutmaster and others all pledged to stay until the rule prohibiting gays is changed, which will be January 1.

Still, the rule won't allow my friend Andy to be an adult leader. You have to be straight to do that. You know, like the biological parents of Andy's kids. The ones who abused them and neglected them. They're straight, so they could be adult leaders. You can be divorced, too, and be an adult leader. You can cheat on your wife and be an adult leader, too. But you can't be married to a man you love, not even your high-school sweetheart, if you're a man.

And boys? It doesn't matter if the boy who is gay is 14 years old and a virgin and in God's eyes an innocent. These "Christians" have decided that they know better and they can't allow that. Boys who are 16 and have girlfriends, though? No one asks if they're virgins. No one asks who they're sleeping with.

So, these people who say they follow Christ? They're not saving any souls by doing this. The message they're sending, loud and clear, to others in Bellingham, is this: Christians are mean-spirited. Christians are judgemental. They choose to judge young boys, as young as 8, on "sins" they haven't even commited, while looking the other way at other "sins." Christians quit when they don't get their own way. Christians are obsessed with what strangers do with their genitals in private over what good works they do by daylight in public. They refuse to listen to reason, going against all of Jesus' own word and actions. Christians, in short, are completely unlike Christ.

Is that the message they hope to spread? Is that the legacy Christians are leaving behind?

One of the men at the meeting the other night said, "We live in a post-Christian society."

Well, no wonder. And good riddance, honestly, if this is what Christians are. If that's what their churches are preaching, they need to find a new church. Or they need to actually, you know, read the words of Jesus. Not Leviticus. Well, not unless they're willing to give up shrimp and bacon, anyway. Because, really, they can't have anger against gays because Leviticus said so and still have BLTs for lunch, because he said that was bad, too.

Too bad Jesus' top two commandments were 1: Love, and 2: Love. He didn't mention anything about anger, and He didn't mention staying away from sinners. In fact, He welcomed them.

You know what? Boy Scouts will be just fine without these angry, mean people. And I'm sure some people, the real Christians, and the agnostics, and the Jews, and the Muslims, and everyone else who loves Boy Scouts simply because they like camping and like a good youth program -- all of those people will stay. I'm staying. My husband is staying.

So are my kids. And we'll be there to welcome whatever Scouts come in on January 1. Just as Jesus would have.

We are, so to speak, "estranged,"; our relationship is a difficult one. Well, everything about her has always been difficult.

Her life, from the time she was five years old, was defined and shaped by men she didn't know and didn't love, and who certainly didn't love her. And that, in turn, shaped my life, as I will share some part in shaping the life of my daughter.

My mother was raped when she was young. I don't know how old. Five? Six? It doesn't matter much. She was young enough that when her piano teacher's husband told her that the Virgin Mary was watching from the corner of the bedroom, she believed it. She believed the evil old bastard when he told her that Mary would kill her family if she told. My mother told me once, "I was six years old, and I learned what I had to do to make men like me. And I did what I had to do to save my parents."

She would go for her lesson with the piano teacher, who would then lead her to the bedroom, where her husband was waiting for this tiny girl. When the husband had finished with my mother, the wife would be waiting outside the door with a piece of Wasa bread and a smear of cream cheese on top, or perhaps brot and butter, as a treat.

This went on for years. Once a week, week after week, for years, until my mother, at age ten or so, simply said to her mother, "I don't want to take piano lessons any more."

The damage, of course, was done.

When my mother was fifteen, and the damage was still invisible, and the secrets still ran deep, my mother went to a party and was raped. His name was Walter, and he was a friend of the family.

No one ever asked who the father was or what had happened, or how a nice Catholic girl from Staten Island who'd never had a boyfriend and who went to an all-girls school was pregnant. She didn't even know she was pregnant until she felt the baby move; "I had no idea how my body worked. I didn't know what my period was for. We just didn't talk about things like that. I was as suprised as anyone that I was pregnant -- I never even connected it to being raped. It just happened."

She went to a home for unwed mothers run by nuns, and the baby was taken away.

My oldest sibling. It was a boy, named Christopher. Or perhaps David. My mother doesn't remember. A nice family from Manhattan adopted him.

One of my mom's younger sisters is still resentful because the family had to move that year, to hide the shame.

"We had to move in the middle of my senior year in high school because your mother couldn't keep her legs together," she said to me once. "I lost all of my friends!"

After that, my mother said, everyone assumed she was a whore.

She was laughed at, sneered at, abused. Her mother cut off all of my mother's hair one night, in a fit of rage, "to keep boys from looking at her." Finally, my mother said, "If I was going to be treated like a whore, I might as well have fun and act like one."

She went off to college in San Francisco for a while, but it didn't work. The damage was starting to show. At that point, my mother didn't even remember the abuse from her childhood. It was completely blocked out. She loved some men, and men loved her, but there was no birth control, which made it dangerous.

On August 5, 1962, she got pregnant again -- this time by a guy named Lee Hansen, whose nickname was "Mr. Irresponsible." Go figure.

She said she knows the date, because they were all on the beach together, and the news of Marilyn Monroe's death came over one of the radios on the beach, and everyone on the beach was quiet, and all of the radios got turned up, and they all sat on the beach like that for a while, and then she went home with Lee.

She tried to have an abortion. She was 24, and not married, and was a journalist in New York. She wanted to do something with her life, and she didn't love Lee.

She went to an abortion clinic, though it was illegal, somewhere in the "bad part of the city," and she went with her friend Barbara, because she needed someone to drive her home. It was dark, and after midnight, and dirty, and Barbara lost her nerve and started screaming, and the doctor told them to leave and not come back.

So in 1963, my mother had another baby. A girl she named Ann-Margaret, and who she gave to another nice couple, helped by the nuns. This time, she was allowed to hold the baby for a minute. There was no question of keeping it. She didn't make enough money to pay her bills without her family's help, and her family would have disowned her.

"Don't forget, there was no birth control then," my mother said once. "I liked men. They liked me. There really weren't many options. I was born twenty years too soon."

Two years later, she was pregnant again.

This time, "a guy named Scotty, from the Village."

She decided to have an abortion. She went to a different clinic this time, with her friend Vinnie. He was going to drive her back to her apartment. Instead, the doctor came out and said that the abortion hadn't worked. My mother was further along than they'd thought. "Take her to the hospital, but if you tell them who I am or what I've done, I'll kill you both."

At the hospital, she gave birth to a tiny baby boy, as they read my mother the last rites and called her parents to tell them she was dying.

"Let us know if you need money," her dad said. He was out of his depth, out of his field of knowledge. How do nice Catholic parents end up with a daughter who's dying because of a botched illegal abortion? How do they sign away the rights to their grandchild as she lies dying?

The boy was either Christopher or David. He was given to a nice Jewish lady from uptown. My mother had to hand the baby to the woman, who was "older," probably 40, and was too old to adopt. My mother has said this is the baby she wants to find, because she liked the lady she gave him to.

And then my mother met my father.

He was not a good man, nor a kind one. How could he be? She had no idea what those words meant, or what they would look like in a man.

In 1966, when she met my father, she was 28. She'd given up three babies for adoption, after trying to abort two of them. And she still had a dream of meeting a nice man and settling down and having children.

But my father was married, and already had a child. He didn't want a child with her.

And when she, inevitably, got pregnant, he said he'd leave her. He said he'd go back to his wife unless she had an abortion. They were living together, and at last, she had a man who loved her. All she had to do was get rid of the baby.

So this time, knowing what to expect, she went to the clinic and had another illegal abortion, and went back to the apartment to "wait for everything to pass."

"If there's a hell, this is why I'm going. It's the worst thing I've ever done. I was in severe pain -- I should have gone to the hospital. But I went home, and I was walking to the bathroom, and the baby fell out on the floor. And yes, it was a baby. A little girl, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She must have been about six pounds. Your father came home, and got me into a tub, and the water in the tub turned bright red from the blood, and when I got out it was cleaned up, and it was over. I was so naive. I didn't know. I just didn't know."

And then, two years later, I was born. "You were the special one," she always said. "You were the first baby I got to keep!" And by the time I was six, I had three younger sisters. And when my last sister was born, and my mother was 35, she had an emergency c-section, and they tied my mother's tubes on the operating table, while she was unconcious, the last time that a man she didn't know and that didn't love her made a decision for her about how many babies to have and when.

When people say that abortion is murder, perhaps they are right.

In my mother's case, the end result of illegal abortion was a dead baby girl, delivered alone by a frightened woman in an apartment in New York, and probably disposed of down the garbage chute. That was probably murder.

And because abortion was illegal, there are three adults out there today who would not otherwise be alive.

But I will also say this: My mother's life has been a tragedy, defined by men. She still, today, lives with the consequences.

But what about the man who raped her when she was eight? The man who raped her at fifteen? Mr. Irresponsible? Scotty from the Village? My father?

Do you think that 50 years later, they wrestle with the consequences of a fling they had back in 1963? Do they even remember my mother?

Why is my mother the one who believes she is going to hell?

Why do the men get out of this with a free pass, while 45 years later, I writhe with guilt over sins that aren't mine? The reason that men feel they can legislate women's bodies is because they don't have to live with the repercussions of their actions. And my mother, and my sisters, and I have had to live with the repercussions generations later.

Men have no accountability in pregnancy. They have no standing to argue the case.

If there had been birth control and access to the morning-after pill for that lost 15-year-old girl who was raped in 1953, perhaps my mother would have gone to college and finished.

Perhaps she would have found counseling. Perhaps she would still have been a mess, and still have gotten pregnant four more times, and would have had abortions every time. But a legal abortion at eight weeks is a better outcome than a dead blue-eyed infant on the floor, every time.

When I was sixteen, I started on the pill. I slept with whomever I pleased. I was never raped. When I was 22, I was so afraid of unwanted pregnancy that I got an implant put in so that I couldn't get pregnant for five years, and I didn't take it out until I met my husband.

I have had complete control over my body, and over how many babies I've had, and when I've had them. And what a different life my mother would have had if she'd been born twenty years later.

I now have a little girl. She was born 72 years after my mother, into a whole different world. There are no nuns to tear her babies away from her. No homes for unwed mothers. If she chooses to have a baby without being married, she can do it without shame or guilt.

But I will fight with my dying breath for her to be able to have her babies when she chooses, and IF she chooses. I will be damned before I see her live in a world when one man who doesn't love her can impregnate her against her will and another man who doesn't know her or love her can tell her she has to carry that baby to term, with no regard to whether that baby is wanted or loved.

There is legislation this week in Texas and in North Carolina that will effectively outlaw abortion in both states. I'm sure the laws will be challenged, and they will be taken to the Supreme Court, but in the meantime, there will be women who will be forced to bear children they do not want, and women who will use dangerous methods to abort pregnancies they're terrified by. Women like Wendy Davis in Texas understand that people who support legal abortion are not pro-murdering babies. They are, instead, about protecting the lives of women, and of girls.

I will NOT live in a country that values the life of a fetus over the life of a woman. My daughter will grow up to be a woman, and I will not her value reduced to how long she can incubate. My sons will NOT grow up in a world that tells them that if their wife or sister is raped, well, too bad. Just wait while your wife carries the rapist's baby for a while, and then you can have your incubator back for your own brood.

My children have more value than a fetus does. A fetus is NOT a baby, any more than an acorn is an oak tree. The logic is flawed, and the intention behind the recent bills is clear. It is NOT to save babies, or to protect women, but to control women.

And I'm going to fight for as long as it takes so that the world where my daughter grows up is a better one than my mother's world.

So. It's been the kind of day that leaves me mixing peanut butter and powdered sugar in a bowl and eating it straight up. Yeah, kids push me to do things I never thought possible. And not always in a good way.

Today is the day when all of my parenting ideas collided head-on, and in the resulting wreckage, people were hurt.

And still, I have days where I'm just left on the floor at the end of the day, with no reserves of energy or brain power or kindness or cheeriness left, eating peanut butter "cookie dough" and shaking inside at what a disaster it was, and counting the ways I could have done it differently.

This move was hard on all of us, but it was hardest on Sander. He hates change the way cats hate baths. Last week I painted a kitchen stool a different color, to match the new kitchen. He refuses to use it until I paint it the color it was before. That's the way he is -- he likes what he likes. How the hell was I supposed to know that I wasn't allowed to paint a yellow step-stool red?

He hated our new violin teacher on sight. She was organized, together, strict, tidy, and a bit compulsive about obedience and rules.

"Shoes off when you enter the studio. Look at me when you talk, please. No yawning unless you cover your mouth. Oh, dear, tsk, tsk, even Mommy forgot to take her shoes off... That's the second time I've had to tell you about yawning. I know Scout's only two, but she has to learn to whisper when her brothers are having their lesson. That will be a quarter every time you yawn if I have to tell you again..."

Honestly, not a good fit for us at all. She intimidated even me, and I'm usually the overbearing scary one. However: She was a very, very good violin teacher, and after four months with no lessons, we needed to get back into it hard.

My idea was that we'd work with her for one semester. I paid for the semester in advance (my first mistake,) and told her that Sander needed to be coaxed into trying new things.

"Pish-posh. He just needs structure and consistent discipline. He'll be fine with me. Sander has met his match."

After the first lesson, Sawyer was very happy, and Sander was in tears. Sawyer has issues with fine motor skills and needs a lot of help with violin. He's also cheerful, compliant, and sweet. The violin teacher loved him.

Sander? "I'm not going to listen to her, I'm not going to do another lesson, and I'm never going in there again, and you can't make me. And I'm selling my violin."

Fabulous. Now we've been set up for a showdown. This teacher says she knows what she's doing, and that if I let her work with Sander, she'll whip him into shape and he'll be fine. He says that he hates her guts and never wants to do another lesson with her.

My second mistake? I didn't follow my own rules. You know, the one where I say to listen to your kid?

I had this whole thing that if I just pushed him a little bit beyond his comfort zone, made him push his limits a bit beyond "I don't wanna," then maybe he'd be better off in the long run.

But at every lesson, it got worse instead of better. She wanted him to play using all four fingers. "But my old teacher said I only need three fingers.""Sander, you need to play with four and I don't want to hear another word about it. That's the way we do it here."

Tears. Frustration. Refusal to practice. Bribes were used. A lot. Misery. And there was more of "I paid for the whole semester and it was a lot of money and your brother likes it so we're staying" than I'd ever like to admit.

And still, I insisted that he go to the last lesson today. Despite begging, pleading and tears, I asked him if he could just do one more lesson.

Fine, he said. As long as he didn't have to play with all four fingers.

Fine, says I. The teacher's a Suzuki teacher. We chose this because they're kind. They're easy-going. They're all about playing with love and joy. She's not going to be mean.

Wrong. It was doomed from the start -- he was hot. He was wearing the wrong pants and was itchy. He couldn't find his violin. He wanted a snack. And when we walked in, he had the look on his face that said, "Find a reason to make me hate you some more."

And when she said, "Play the first song, with all four fingers, please," he wouldn't do it. First, he pretended he couldn't. Then he just wouldn't. Then he just stood there and said, "Nooooooooo."

From there, it went downhill fast.

And that, people, is how my son got fired from violin.

By the end of the session, the teacher asked him to leave and told him not to come back. And she told me that after teaching for 40 years, she'd never had a more disrespectful, disobedient child.

And you know what? I don't care.

Because she broke every rule I had about parenting, and I should have stopped this in its tracks long ago.

It's not disrespectful to say no. It's not defiant to say, "This is too much for me and it's new and I'm overwhelmed and I need you to guide me, not order me."

And if she couldn't hear that in a little boy's cries of "I can't do this and it's too hard," then she's the wrong teacher for my son.

I know there are parents who will say that I should have made him behave -- that this, in its essence, is the fault with homeschooling. That the entire point of education is to learn from difficult people, to learn to adapt to circumstances that are less than ideal, and to learn how to obey when asked.

I disagree completely. The entire point of an education is to learn about how to be a good human being who can find happiness and make the world a better place for other human beings.

Thus, violin lessons. Music, joy, self-expression, self-disclipline to help overcome the tyranny of our own wants and desires. There's nothing in this list about masochism, humiliation, or pain.

And it's my job to remember to have my kid's back. When he says something is wrong, it's my job to listen the first time.

There will be other times when he is faced with something that feels like too much, and I will still have to navigate the fine line between, "Yes, you can do this, go on, even if it's scary," and "I'm making you do something that's way out of your league, and we're all going over the cliff together."

But now, at age eight, I needed to support him, and I took the teacher's side instead of his, and I was wrong.

So, I apologized to the teacher, because she was upset, and because I feel like we did her a disservice. She's a good teacher for many kids, and I should have walked away weeks ago. I apologized to Sander, for not listening. And he apologized to me, for the meltdown.

I told him that I loved him, no matter what. And I asked him if he knew that.

He looked at me and said, "Why do you ask me that? I always feel loved. Well, except by violin teachers who fire me. But I don't need them to love me."

As always, Sander will be fine. That there is a kid who has no problems with self-esteem.

Me?

I'm going to go re-read my parenting rules, remember that it's more important to have a kid who's kind than a kid who can play the violin, I'm going to book lessons with a new teacher, and I'm going to eat a lot more sugar.